


Black Trigger, Break

by avtorSola, davidoodles (avtorSola)



Category: World Trigger (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alien Invasion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chika is probably ready to bang their heads together and she's not even that kind of person, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Osamu and Chika are Very Done with Yuuma's shit, Osamu and Chika just want him to live, Recovery, Self-Sacrifice, Slow Romance, Tamakoma plots to save Yuuma's life but he's having NONE of it, Trion Jargon, WARNING: AUTHOR IS PANTSING THE HELL OUTTA THIS PLOT lmao, Yuuma is depressed but too passive to realize it, Yuuma learns to let go of all his guilt but he fights it tooth and nail, slow burn probably, the osayuu is going to be painful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22984975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avtorSola/pseuds/avtorSola, https://archiveofourown.org/users/avtorSola/pseuds/davidoodles
Summary: It's been three years since the (mostly) successful first off-world invasion of Border agents, three years since Chika brought her brother home, three years since Replica had been recovered and Hyuse had strongarmed his way into ruling Afrokrator in Tamakoma-2's brilliant blue colors. Three years of peace to recover and heal from their war wounds.But some things time doesn't heal. Instead, they stay trapped in limbo, like those gaping wounds frozen in the slowly fading ring of Yuuma's Black Trigger. His father bought him seven years of a half-life, a half-life of bleeding survivor's guilt that he had been content to succumb to. Or he would have been content - until Jin sees something. A sliver of a chance, locked deep inside the whirlwind of another disaster, for Yuuma to live whole and hale. The only problem: For once, Jin's Foresight isn't clear, and the chance is slender.And Yuuma will die a thousand times before he lets anyone give him a life he thinks he doesn't deserve - especially at their own expense.How do you convince someone who died seven years ago that life is worth living?
Relationships: Amatori Chika & Kuga Yuuma, Amatori Chika & Kuga Yuuma & Mikumo Osamu, Kuga Yuuma & Mikumo Osamu, Kuga Yuuma/Mikumo Osamu
Comments: 61
Kudos: 149





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I just found World Trigger recently, and HAD to add Yuuma to my pile of White-Haired Little Shits in my Favorite Character Jail (so named because they're all bastards or massive dorks)
> 
> And so...here I am. Writing Fanfic. You know, as one does. I'll try to finish this one!
> 
> And here are my tumblr and twitter, if anyone wants to chat!! I also do fanart sometimes, and I try to be as obnoxiously cheerful as I can without being pure annoying <3
> 
> https://davidoodles.tumblr.com/  
> https://twitter.com/avtorSola
> 
> ALSO I'm a bit confused: Mikumo *is* Osamu's surname, right??

It had been, what, three years? Three years since the ship had left with Tamakoma-2 safely onboard, three years since the infiltration of Afrokrator and the devastating fate of those captured people had been shoved into their naïve faces, three years since Hyuse had overthrown an entire House for them? Three years since their lives had been sobered, since Replica had been recovered, since they’d fallen into this pattern of quiet remembrance and the grieving knowledge that they hadn’t been able to save everyone? Only three years?

Sometimes it all felt like a distant memory. The Neighborhood was wary of Border now, scrambling in the aftermath of Afrokrator’s fall from grace and the scattering of their Black Triggers, all jockeying for positions of power in the ashes. Hyuse held on to what was left of his country, leading them skillfully, his strategy keen. But Afrokrator wasn’t a superpower of Trion anymore, just a normal, formidable country that Earth had to contend and ally with. Hyuse did what he could from the other side, still wearing Tamakoma-2’s bright teal-blue colors. But it was clear - the Neighborhood was different now, more fractious and less peaceful. More dangerous despite the new alliances made. And so, Border had grown accordingly, so that no more civilians would be taken again.

And now Tamakoma had two A-rank teams within its walls, and the single Black Trigger that mattered.

“ _Good Morning, Mikumo.”_

Osamu jumped out of his skin with a short yelp, spinning around on his heel and lashing out with the frying pan he had in his hand. It sizzled threateningly, half-cooked eggs slopping around the flat dish in treacherous attempts to escape. And Yuuma ducked, the pan skating over his fluffy white hair with a loud hiss, red eyes sparking with mischief and mirth. It took a second for Osamu to realize what had happened, and then he sighed, putting the pan back on the stovetop to continue cooking breakfast.

“Kuga! I almost smacked you with a hot pan. Make some noise or something next time,” He huffed, and Yuuma laughed, face puffing up with feigned innocence.

“Wasn’t me, that was Replica saying hi.” The Trion soldier hovering over Yuuma’s shoulder dipped a bit in the air, making a hummed apology, and Yuuma’s lips pursed into a slight pout, his gaze going flat – the infamous duckface of plausible deniability. Of course. “Good morning, Osamu. There. That was me.”

Osamu couldn’t help the smile, and he reached out and down to pat Yuuma’s head, instantly earning him a look of resignation and no little amusement. The small Trion body was still the same height as it had been all those years ago, after all, and it was pretty clear to everyone with eyes that Yuuma was starting to get bored of looking up at his peers.

“Hm, I’m your age, don’t treat me like a junior high kid.”

Tamakoma-2’s captain just laughed and handed him a few plates.

“Do me a favor and set the table, Kuga?”

“Yeah, sure. Is Chika coming off defense duty soon, then?” The soft sound of ceramic plates hitting wood was a welcome distraction from the sizzle of egg frying around the vegetables being shaken into the pan. Osamu didn’t bother looking up from his work. He was almost done anyway.

“Yes, she should be back pretty soon. Right, Replica?”

The autonomous soldier beeped cheerfully, tiny antennae wiggling up and down.

“ _Correct, my clone is less than five minutes’ walk from Tamakoma Branch HQ.”_

“Hmm hmm, sounds like she’s close. Do you need a hand with breakfast, Osamu?”

Osamu glanced over his shoulder to see Yuuma leaning on the kitchen counter, plates laid out on the table. His hair was slightly more tousled than usual, and he was already wearing their squad gear, gloves and all, his long blue sleeves hiding the base of his thumbs. He was ready to go, red eyes flickering with excitement. Osamu’s smile spread a bit more – he knew why Yuuma was raring to go, and frankly he was just as excited for it himself. And so would be Chika, once she’d returned and caught a quick nap.

The B-rank wars had just finished – which meant it was now time for the A-rank trials to happen again. It would be time for them to keep the place they’d earned.

And frankly, Osamu couldn’t really think of anything better to distract them all for a while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure schoolyard fights happen in Border more often that people would admit, given half the agents seem to be teenagers, so...trope time >:D  
> (plot picks up a little next chapter, but I'm *still* winging it)

They’d been challenged by a group of up-and-coming B-rankers, a new squad that had inexorably worked it’s way up through the ranks of B-rank teams, and Osamu had to hand it to them – they deserved their top B-Rank slot. It was a clever setup – two attackers and a pinpoint-accurate sniper, similar to Tamakoma-2’s usual formation. However, while their sniper was incredibly accurate, he was clearly the team’s ace, and with Osamu and Yuuma distracting the attackers, a well-placed blast from Chika’s Ibis took him out in one blow. Said shot also leveled the skyscraper-rich map that the B-rank team had chosen, making Osamu’s Spider traps half useless, but since it opened up much more convenient avenues of fire from his Asteroid, the loss wasn’t too much to bear. And then while Osamu had the two attackers distracted with a barrage of Asteroid fire, Yuuma’s Scorpion boomerangs cut them down cleanly.

Overall, it was a very good match. The B-rank team had displayed some excellent strategy and teamwork, and Chika had popped by to chat excitedly with their sniper after the battle. Even Hyuse, after being sent the video of his team’s battle, had to admit the B-rankers were good. Just…not quite good enough. Not yet. They’d get there. Probably.

“ _-doesn’t matter what you say, Mikumo. Kuga would have been enough to defeat all three of them alone.”_

Osamu huffed, glaring at the tablet screen showing Hyuse’s smug face and black horns, his Black Trigger Organon tucked against his side – a memento from his late mentor. Hyuse had been teasing his teammates for the past ten minutes over videochat now, quite convinced that the B-rank team would have been easily defeated by their on-world ace. Osamu and Chika were pretending to be offended, as was the usual, and Yuuma…

“Hmm, hmm, I’m not sure if I could do it _all_ by myself,” Yuuma mused, his round face puffed into the Duckface of Denial again. “…Just _mostly_ by myself. Chika helped.”

Osamu groaned, letting his head thud onto the cafeteria table with a sigh, and Chika giggled, bumping her fist with Yuuma’s. These two would be the death of him one day, Yuuma especially.

“Why do you three gang up on me like this?” he whined, fighting back a grin. “I’m sitting _right here_.”

Hyuse’s snickering over the video comms were slightly staticky, and rang in harsh discord with Chika’s light chuckling and Yuuma’s cheerful humming, but the sound of laughter from his team was something Osamu treasured above all other things. It had been a long time since any of them had seen Hyuse in person, as he didn’t often travel. It was a measure to conserve Trion, Osamu knew, but sometimes having all of Tamakoma-2 back together was something he found himself longing for. But the video chat was a good stopgap, that was for sure.

The chatter of the cafeteria swelled suddenly, excitement rippling through the C-rank agents scattered around the room, and all four of them glanced up at the screen displaying the rankings for Solo Rank Wars. Osamu took a sip out of his water bottle, glancing curiously at the replays onscreen. It seemed that the same sniper from the B-rank team that had challenged them in the A-rank Trials had been challenged by an overconfident C-rank agent and had summarily defeated them. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then Osamu saw the two grappling on the ground in front of the TV screen, Trion bodies deactivated, yelling rowdy insults at each other. Well. That was certainly unusual.

Hyuse’s amused snort came from the screen.

“ _Looks like it’s lively as ever over there. When’s Captain Four-Eyes going to intervene?”_

Osamu shot Hyuse another glare, but only a halfhearted one. His team knew him too well.

“I’m going, I’m going,” he groaned, and Hyuse nodded, pixels blinking.

“ _Then I’ll hang up. I’m about due for another round of strategy meetings anyway – the Neighborhood is busy as ever, you know.”_

That got a chuckle out of Yuuma, who was slurping down some kind of sweet milk tea drink with a wide, pleased smirk on his face.

“Not much changes up there, I guess.”

Hyuse shook his head.

_“Never does. See you all later.”_

The screen went black, and Chika put her tablet back into its case, ignoring Osamu as he stood and made his way over to the grappling agents on the ground, glasses hiding the disappointment in his eyes. Yuuma bounced up with a grin, still slurping his tea. Chika stood as well, and the pair wandered over to spy on their captain, curious about what the issue was.

By the time they crept up behind Osamu, the two agents had been separated forcibly by Osamu’s Raygust, and he obviously wasn’t the only one to notice the commotion, because Kazama was over there as well, one foot planted on the C-rank agent’s chest to keep him pinned to the ground. The B-rank sniper was smoldering, clearly irate but keeping himself together, and the C-rank agent, a teenager with narrow blue eyes, was practically on fire he was so angry. Chika blinked in shock at the two of them, her magenta gaze full of concern.

“Ah, what happened?” she asked, and the sniper she’d spoken to so cheerfully just a few hours before looked up at her for a split second, sudden shame clouding his dark eyes. He ducked his head, tucking his knees up to his chest, and Osamu sighed in resignation. The sniper couldn’t be more than 15 – the same age he’d been three years ago, when Tamakoma-2 had been formed. And the C-rank agent couldn’t be too much older, maybe by just a year? Either way, they were both pretty recent additions to Border, and so it was confusing to see two rookies at odds so quickly.

Kazama glared at both of them, black hair whipped into something like bedhead. He’d probably been on duty all day then, and just come back to this nonsense. Osamu felt for the guy – corralling rowdy C-ranks was difficult even when everyone was actually behaving.

“You have two minutes to start explaining, or I take you to higher,” Kazama threatened. “Answer Agent Amatori.”

The sniper took a deep breath and tried to relax, biting his lower lip.

“Um…Well, Aoyama challenged me to ten rounds of Solo Rank Wars, and I thought I’d agree because he said he wanted to test his skills.”

The C-rank agent, now surnamed Aoyama, growled suddenly, trying to force Kazama’s foot off his chest with no success. Living bodies were no match for Trion bodies, anyway.

“And then you proceeded to be an absolute suck-up the entire time, Fuse, you piece of shit!” Aoyama yelled, fuming. “You even defended the little white-haired freak, like he’s not suspicious as hell-”

“Kuga-senpai is an A-Rank Border agent! Same as Amatori-senpai! The higher-ups wouldn’t _hire_ them if they were suspicious!”

“You’re a blind _lapdog!_ You’re just starstruck because Tamakoma’s Cannon deigned to say hi to you after the match!”

Osamu felt a ripple of heat snap down his spine, and his grip on Raygust tightened, the yellow shield suddenly glowing with ferocious intensity. Kuga, a freak? Is that what this was all about? The two squabbling agents fell silent, and Kazama shot him a sideways glance in some surprise. Beside him, Yuuma whistled around his milk tea, his infuriating little duckface painted on his round face, and leaned over to Chika, one hand comically cupping his mouth as if to muffle what he was saying.

“Oh, Captain Osamu is mad.”

“You have no right to talk that way about Chika and Kuga,” Osamu snapped, ignoring his partner’s antics behind him. “Tamakoma-2 has proved our worth many times over while on the away missions and rumors are cheap. If you have something to say, keep it based in facts, please.”

The corners of Kazama’s mouth lifted slightly, clearly pleased with how Osamu had handled the situation, and he stepped off Aoyama with a sigh.

“Well said, Mikumo. Tamakoma-2 is a valuable asset to Border, and I hold both Agent Kuga and Agent Amatori in high regard. You may think they are suspicious, but the majority of the A-ranked squads would disagree with you,” Kazama retreated a bit, still looking very tired, and Osamu threw him a grateful look. With a sigh, he pulled Raygust away, letting the weapon revert to its dormant state, and stepped more thoroughly between the sniper, Fuse, and the still-steamed Aoyama.

“If you have concerns, take them to higher, or let out your frustrations in Solo Rank Wars. Don’t start brawling in the middle of HQ,” he scolded one last time, then turned back to his teammates, running a tired hand through his hair. Chika threw him an awkward smile, nodding in agreement, and Yuuma just hummed, red eyes flickering with some nameless mix of amusement and annoyance. Well, Kuga wasn’t angry, and Chika seemed more startled than upset by the sudden accusations. Then Osamu turned to Kazama and his teammates, who’d grumped over to stand around and look threatening to the C-ranks.

“I’ll handle the incident report, Kazama-senpai. You and your team should get some rest. You just had defense duty, right?”

Kazama nodded wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Kikuchihara gave them a wave of thanks, shadows under his eyes.

“Ahh, thanks, Four-Eyes,” he said, short brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. “We’ll leave that to you. Don’t screw it up.”

Osamu sighed as Kazawa Squad started away, long used to Kikuchihara’s brusque way of talking, and glanced down at the sulking agents on the floor. He got both of their names within a moment, writing them down on a spare notepad, sighing at the thought of doing paperwork instead of preparing for Tamakoma-2’s next patrol.

And then Aoyama exploded.

“Am I the _only person_ who’s noticed that Tamakoma’s White Nightmare _doesn’t age_?! He says he’s 18, but he’s looked like an eleven-year-old since he joined Border!”

Kazama Squad paused, and Osamu distinctly felt Yuuma’s entire body tense behind him, the shift in atmosphere palpable. Osamu took a deep, steadying breath, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. Red eyes locked onto him, flat with simmering irritation underneath the white fringe. Ah. So he was starting to get mad.

“Do you really think Director Rindo hasn’t noticed?” Osamu shot back, and Aoyama sputtered for a moment. “Or Director Kido? Or Director Kinuta? Any of them, really?”

The silence that fell in the wake of Osamu’s questions was slightly deafening, and he could feel his heart rate speed up, anxiety rippling through his chest in tender little butterfly trails. But he knew he had a point, so he waited for the reply. Aoyama ground his teeth, his t-shirt shifting as he brushed himself and stood up, sulking, Kazama’s footprint still dusty on his chest.

“…no.” he muttered finally. And Osamu nodded, pleased by the final response. But then the tension went out of Yuuma’s shoulders, irritation evaporating into grim resolve, and the shorter boy put a gloved hand on top of Osamu’s, fingers catching loosely around his wrist.

“If you really _have_ to know why I don’t age, you can just ask me, Aoyama,” He said, his tone carefully nonchalant, though the penetrating glare of crimson was anything but casual. And this caught attention. Kazama glanced down at him with surprise, as did many of the C-rank and B-rank agents scattered around the Rank Wars screen and the surrounding cafeteria.

Aoyama swallowed hard, his blue eyes round with sudden shock and anticipation.

“I…I can?”

Yuuma nodded once, stabbing the tapioca bubbles at the bottom of his milk tea and eating them one by one, acting far more casual than Osamu knew he was. And Aoyama swallowed and took the bait.

“Uh…Why don’t you age, Kuga-senpai?”

The duckface was back in an instant.

“It’s a secret!” Yuuma sang out, humming cheerfully to himself, affecting such an air of amused nonchalance that it sent pretty much all of the C-ranks reeling with the quick turnaround. There it was, typical Kuga mischief. “Hm, you’re very forward, aren’t you, asking personal information like that when I don’t even know you…Aokawa.”

Osamu turned away to hide a fond laugh behind a cough, losing composure violently over the purposeful mistake in Aoyama’s name, but Chika wasn’t quite so stealthy, giggling openly as Aoyama flushed very red very quickly. Fuse, from where he sat chastised on the floor, also seemed to understand Yuuma’s ploy, laughing under his breath. Kazama Squad also smiled, mirth coloring their expressions. Chika tapped lightly on top of Yuuma’s head, only mildly reproachful, but the short attacker pretended to choke nonetheless, hanging his head comically. Even she was taller than him now, which made for an interesting battle dynamic.

“Yuuma, you can be so mean sometimes,” Chika scolded, puffing her cheeks out despite the laughter bubbling up her throat. “You gave him a sliver of hope and then took it away again.”

“Hey, hey, I’m not the one asking my senpai for personal information.”

Osamu sighed, shoulders slumping. Yuuma was as incorrigible as ever, it seemed – though he would never really want it any other way.

“Alright, you two go on then,” he groaned. “It’s Kuga’s turn to make dinner tonight, right? Chika, make sure he doesn’t burn anything? I’ll write the report up and be along afterward?”

Chika and Yuuma nodded, and Yuuma gave Osamu a quick, playful salute.

“Yes, yes, dinner’s on me tonight. Chikaaaa, I’m counting on you to make it edible.~”

“Ah, Yuuma, you really need to learn not to burn things…”

The two smaller members of Tamakoma-2 started walking off, chatting amicably, and Osamu turned back to the two on the floor with a rueful smile.

“Hopefully the higher-ups go easy on you,” he sighed, massaging a temple tiredly. “But, do me a favor? Don’t spread rumors about my teammates. They’ve both worked hard to be where they are. It isn’t right for people to just ignore that.”

Fuse nodded immediately, standing up in scruffy jeans and giving Osamu a quick salute similar to Yuuma’s of just a few moments prior. Aoyama, on the other hand, turned away, clearly seething over being put in his place. He’d be trouble in the future, Osamu knew, but these days he wasn’t exactly worried by the Border rumor mill. Yuuma, Chika, and the general membership of Tamakoma-2 was well-known around HQ, if only for the sole reason that they were one of the top A-rank teams in Border nowadays, and one of the few that had a distinct off-world advantage in Yuuma’s knowledge and Replica’s maps. Not to mention what Hyuse usually could offer them from their small outpost on Afrokrator. Plus, there were a good deal of A and top B-rank agents that knew them fairly well, and would vouch for them if necessary.

The rumors of one C-rank agent wouldn’t hold much water.

But as Osamu watched Yuuma and Chika walk away, bright blue in the clean white and greens of the cafeteria, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of long-buried worry wrap steel talons around his heart. Yuuma hadn’t aged for seven years.

How much longer would he hold out, his living body dying slowly within the Black Trigger? How much time did he have left?

How much time did Osamu have left to spend with the person he called his partner?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuma's POV. The Chance is mentioned. Melancholia abounds.

His hands were shaking and he didn’t know how to stop it. Holding on to the railing only made it slightly more bearable, spreading the trembling up his forearms, but it didn’t erase it entirely. Just kept it less noticeable for the time being. He ducked his head, staring aimlessly into the dark water running softly beneath Tamakoma HQ. The moon shone in his hair tonight, the faint glow of his Trion body reflecting and amplifying the luminous brilliance of that faraway stone.

Not for the first time, he was glad of Border’s Trigger. With it active, he could hide the shakes wracking his body and the slow fading of Trion from his limbs. And it had worked, Osamu and Chika kept blissfully in the dark about his slow decline. But this late at night, when the world was quiet and his dear friends slept peacefully in their beds – this was his time to look down at the fading snapshot of his eleven-year-old self and commit it to his dying memory. Replica said nothing to him, only hovering over his shoulder in quiet companionship. They both knew he was living a half-life on borrowed time, gifted seven beautiful years by his father’s sacrifice. He couldn’t ask for more, not with a soul so guilty. He’d stolen enough time, he thought. Chika had gotten her brother back and a final gravestone for the friend she’d lost all those years ago, Osamu had made it to be an A-rank agent in his own right, and he…he’d helped both of the people most precious to him now to achieve their dreams.

He’d be okay, dying now, after he’d done some small things to redeem himself for the mistakes of seven years ago.

The door to the rooftop creaked open behind him, and he sighed, the faint scent of fried rice aromatic in contrast with the slightly sour smell of fresh river water.

“Want a rice cracker?”

Yuuma turned his head slightly and smiled. Jin stood in the doorway, a bag of open crackers in his hand, and though he was smiling, there was a distinct layer of grief etched into the faint lines around his mouth and eyes. And with a sudden pang of guilt, ripping fresh through his Trion chest, Yuuma realized that the inevitable approach of his Trigger’s failure and his death would weigh most on the one person who would be trying to see all the ways it could be avoided. Strange, to think that such a meaningless thing would be such a great burden on those around him. He’d died seven years ago, and should have stayed that way. This was just the world being set right finally.

So why did that sadness on Jin’s face bother him so much?

“…Sure, Jin-senpai.”

The tall man strolled over to him and held out the bag wordlessly, letting Yuuma take a cracker with shaking fingers and nibble absently. The silence between them was comfortable, but dripping with unshed grief, and after a few moments, Replica gently prodded the back of Yuuma’s shoulder. The unspoken gesture was enough.

“…You don’t have to look for a way out for me, you know,” Yuuma said softly, smiling down at the cracker in his hand. “I always knew my dad’s Trigger stasis would run out one day, or my body would give out, whichever came first.”

Jin set a hand on top of his head, ruffling his white hair slowly, like he was trying to memorize the feel of the soft strands against his palm. Yuuma just let him do it. Eighteen years old and he still looked fresh out of elementary school, eleven forever. He couldn’t blame the rowdy Tamakoma bunch for the constant affection, really.

And then, Jin spoke, and it was like being doused in an ice bath.

“I can see a way out for you, Kuga.”

Replica dropped a foot, catching himself midair, and Yuuma froze, chills of fear and incredulity sliding down his spine. He turned to fully face Jin, his entire body shaking violently for reasons that absolutely nothing to do with his dwindling Trion supply and the failing mechanism keeping his dying body preserved inside his father’s Black Trigger.

“You- What?”

Jin’s blue eyes were lined with stress and worry, and he closed the bag of rice crackers, rolling the crinkling top down until it closed. Yuuma felt pressure on his chest suddenly, the gravity of what Jin was saying hitting him all at once. A way for him to live? Was it even possible?

“I can see a chance for your survival. But it’s slim. I won’t lie. And it coincides with one of the biggest disasters to ever befall Border.”

Yuuma waited, waited for the piercing shift that slid through his head whenever he heard someone telling subtle lies and half-truths. But there was nothing. Jin was being genuine – and frankly, that was almost more terrifying than if he’d been lying to give Yuuma some kind of hope.

“A disaster? And a chance that- Jin-senpai, _how_? There’s a hole clear through my stomach, I’m missing two limbs and an eye- my body- it’s torn apart. It’s not able to be healed.”

Replica bobbed in agreement, the autonomous Trion soldier making a few quiet beeps of confusion.

“ _Healing Yuuma’s body would require regenerating large sections of his internal organs, as well as regrowing two limbs and an eye. With my knowledge of current Trion technology it would be theoretically possible, but it would be far too slow. He would bleed out before anything of significance could be done.”_

Jin closed his eyes, shaking his head from side to side in a manner that was far too serious to be the Yuuichi Jin that Yuuma knew. Then he raised a hand, massaging the side of his head as if he was in some kind of pain. Yuuma wouldn’t be entirely surprised if using his Side Effect gave Jin a headache, but if it did, it certainly wasn’t something that he’d revealed before.

“I don’t know, Kuga, Replica-sensei. I can’t see it clearly. But I know that there’s something nasty coming, and that if Yuuma plays his cards right…he’ll come out of it with a living body.”

It was like his entire world had been turned upside down. He’d been living like a parasite for the past seven years, leeching a half-life off his father’s sacrifice without any true hope doing anything more than restoring his father from the Black Trigger he wore on his index finger. And now he was being told that there was a way for him to survive. A way for him to heal his shredded corpse and truly breathe again.

But at what cost? The thought struck him like a hammer on a bell, the thought pealing through his mind like a scream in a horror movie.

“…If I survive, what happens to everyone else? Is it the best outcome?” he asked, trying to keep his hands steady with no success. Jin just looked at him without answering, and a chill of fear shot down Yuuma’s spine. If his survival meant something terrible would happen, then he didn’t want it. He wouldn’t have other people sacrifice their lives for a disobedient child. His father had already done so, choosing to die for him for seemingly no reason whatsoever – a parent’s illogical whim. He wouldn’t let anyone else suffer because his father had made a baffling decision on the battlefield all those years ago.

“I don’t want it if it means someone else gets hurt, Jin-senpai,” he said slowly. “I’ve been living like this for years. I’ll be okay.”

Jin kept a level gaze on him, saying nothing at all, then sighed and stood up, running a hand through his hair as if trying to reassure himself of something. It was hard to determine what, but Yuuma would guess that it had to do with that tiny sliver of hope Jin saw – the hope he didn’t want. A false hope in its entirety, if it meant Meeden and Border and Tamakoma would suffer for it. Then Jin reached out, ruffling his hair again, the steadiness of his hand at startling contrast with Yuuma’s shaking body. Ah. The shakes had spread, then? He was deteriorating more quickly than he’d expected. For a moment, he felt the faintest stirring of fluttering…something, curdling his stomach and tying his Trion insides in knots. He swallowed hard, choking that feeling off midway through. It wouldn’t be helpful right now, and he’d only brought this fate on himself.

“Don’t tell the others, Jin-senpai.”

Jin let out a long sigh, that same terrible expression etched into his face. But he nodded. And Yuuma’s head stayed clear, even as Jin’s hand left his hair. It was the truth.

“Kuga…how long?”

Oh, this was an easier topic, for sure. It was one he had prepared to talk about, an inevitable certainty he’d already come to terms with. Far easier than contemplating having any more time than he’d already been lucky enough to steal.

“Five months, I think,” he mused, tapping his shaking fingertips against the railing again, nails clicking on the old metal. Suddenly his stomach twisted again, a strange kind of sorrow flickering through him. “Oh. I won’t be there for Chika’s seventeenth birthday. I’ll have to get her a present then.”

Jin sighed, the tension in shoulders lifting only slightly. But he was making an attempt to smile, and Yuuma jumped on that, flattening his face at his senior and laughing a bit. Like this he could almost ignore the trembling of his hands, the way Jin’s blue eyes locked onto the visible shaking for a split second before getting distracted by the nimble theft of his rice crackers. Almost. But ah well. He had practice pretending he didn’t see when people were lying to themselves.

“Hm, Hm, maybe I can give her all of Senpai’s crackers for a present- Oh!”

He had to duck sharply to avoid the swipe of Jin’s hand, dancing backward out of reach, but the chase was on and the grim mood had thinned out. So when the senior agent took a few threatening steps toward Yuuma, grinning faintly, he took it as his cue to run, stuffing crackers in his mouth as he fled. Jin gave chase with an indignant yelp, pouting very visibly. It had been an obvious bait, but Jin was Jin, as usual. He played along even at his own expense, for no reason at all.

“Kuga, not my crackers! I need those!”

Replica swirled wordlessly around him as he scrambled away, alighting finally on his shoulder. He said nothing, merely watching the teasing chaos, and though he was silent, Yuuma tried not to grin at the resignation his chaperone must be feeling.

He had five more months of this, this easy camaraderie, this genuine cheer. Five more months of this unusual kindness the universe had let him find, of Chika’s sweet presence, of Jin’s oddness, of Osamu’s warmth.

Yeah, it wasn’t a bad way to spend the rest of his life.


	4. Chapter 4

**_3 weeks later_ **

“Aw, Yuuma-senpai, one more ten-round!”

Yuuma danced back nimbly, skipping out of Midorikawa’s reach as the other teenager lunged haphazardly at him, grinning widely. They’d been goofing off playing with the Solo Rank Wars, killing time while Osamu was off discussing strategy and scheduling off-world rotations for Tamakoma Branch, but fairly soon they were both due in to watch the C-rank attackers practice. Chika was already off on the firing range, coaching new snipers carefully through their weapon choices and explaining the basics of long-distance shooting.

“Hm, but we’ve already had thirty matches, and it’s nineteen to eleven, fair and square,” he hummed. “I think this means _you’re_ the one who has to do the talking this time, Midorikawa.”

The seventeen-year-old pouted at him irritably, puffing his cheeks out, and swiped for Yuuma’s arm again. He missed, crashed into the railing overlooking the common area below and then sank dramatically to the ground, giving up.

“But Chibi-senpai, I don’t wanna,” he whined. Yuuma puffed his cheeks out to match, feigning nonchalance.

“Oh, well that’s too bad,” he chirped, tucking his hands behind his head, gloves brushing against his white hair. “You still lost.”

Shun pouted up at him for a solid five more minutes before standing up and brushing himself off with a sigh. Then he grinned, holding out a hand for Yuuma to shake.

“Good match. Looks like you’re still tricky as ever,” Midorikawa said ruefully, his dark uniform a sharp contrast with Tamakoma-2’s bright teal-blue. Yuuma shook cheerfully, nodding along in full agreement with Midorikawa’s assessment. Then they headed down the stairs, ignoring the various murmurs from the ever-awestruck C-ranks scattered around the room. The few A-rank squads were held in high esteem among the many agents seeking to stand with them one day, and the awe was somewhat expected as a matter of course, but the whispering and rumors did occasionally get annoying to deal with. More often than not, they were rather amusing though – like the one last year that had been going around about Osamu, suggesting his glasses were a secret second Trigger that let him strategize more efficiently.

Well, Osamu had been pretty annoyed by it, but Yuuma and Chika had been able to – completely on accident, of _course_ – knock his glasses off in the middle of a Rank War, thereby relegating him to strategy work anyway, as his eyesight was fairly blurred without the glass lenses. And given that they’d been essentially down a member while Osamu looked for the glasses Yuuma had hidden in his sleeve, it had been much more of a strategy-heavy battle. It also brought just about every other A-rank poking fun at Osamu for not simply adjusting his Trion body to have perfect eyesight, but ah, details. Osamu kept the glasses, and Yuuma thought it was weirdly charming.

Yuuma smiled at the memory, boots tapping on the clean tile floor as he and Shun trotted away from the chatter of the common area around the Solo Rank Wars, passing through a few sliding doors before arriving in the large hall where the new attackers spent a lot of their time practicing. The virtual training rooms were all up-and-running, blank of anything but the large Neighbor drone simulations that C-ranks could practice on, and small groups of C-rank attackers. Many seemed to be having trouble with the virtual Neighbors, unsure of how to wield their Triggers properly, but there were a few scattered among the group at large that were hacking away with mild success – to the obvious relief of the members of Suwa squad, who had been assigned the previous shift to watch them. Suwa was at the control station, snacking on what appeared to be green pocky instead of holding the customary cigarette between his teeth, watching the battles below with boredom clear on his face. When he saw them enter the room, however, he lit up and waved down at them, revealing that his free hand had the cigarette pinched between two of his fingers.

Yuuma and Shun wound their way through the chattering C-rank agents to the staff door that led up to Suwa’s seat at the controls, and met him at the desk. He stretched, relieved.

“Oh, thank god, we’re done,” he groaned, covering the microphone with one hand to muffle his words. Then he dropped his voice even lower. “It’s been a bad day for these guys. You two have your work cut out for you. I think Sasamori has nearly cried twice.”

Midorikawa laughed and gave Suwa a friendly punch in the shoulder, his smirk wide, and Yuuma just bobbed his head without speaking, flattening his lips into what Osamu usually called the Duckface of Plausible Deniability.

“Wow, harsh,” Shun said with an appreciative grin, then sighed. “Alright, Yuuma-senpai, you’ve got the computer, I’ll take care of the floor.”

Yuuma strolled casually forward and hopped up into the chair, kicking his feet aimlessly. Monitoring the computer wasn’t too difficult, whereas trying to reassure and coach C-ranks would be nearly obnoxious. He grinned apologetically at the younger boy.

“Next time you might win a ten-round Rank War,” he offered, and Midorikawa huffed derisively.

“Yeah, and pigs will fly,” he shot back. Then he grabbed Suwa’s elbow and started back towards the stairs. “I’m going to suffer now, and I blame you.”

“Hey, hey, the mike’s still on, Midorikawa.”

The words were barely out of his mouth, their flavor still tingling on his tongue, when an earsplitting wail cut through his thoughts, red light flashing across his face. Immediately, all of the C-rank agents scattered around the room froze, and Yuuma leaned forward, typing a few quick commands into the computer and watching carefully as the virtual training rooms deactivated, the Neighbor copies dissolving into glittering Trion particles. Midorikawa and Suwa both grinned widely, waiting with bated breath for the announcement to come.

_“Gate activity warning. Gate activity warning. Thirteen gates detected in Quadrant B, Sector 1. All C-rank agents, please evacuate to the internal saferooms. A-rank squads Miwa, Arashiyama, and Tamakoma-2, deploy to Quadrant B. All other squads stand by. I say again: A-rank squads Miwa, Arashiyama and Tamakoma-2, deploy to Quadrant B.”_

Suwa sighed with resignation at the announcement and Midorikawa yelled in frustration and envy when Kusakabe Squad wasn’t added to the deployed units. Yuuma shot him a wide, laughing grin as he hopped off the chair and made a break for the stairs. Shun glared right back, unable to hide the playful bent in his affected anger.

“You always get to do the fun stuff, Yuuma-senpai!”

Yuuma gave him and Suwa a little wave as he vaulted the railing leading to the stairs and hurried down. Osamu was starting to buzz in his ear already, Chika’s soft humming trickling along somewhere in the back of his mind. Shiori was opening up their team link as he ran, the data from Osamu and Chika’s visual feeds a ghostly overlay hovering around his peripheral vision.

“Next time, Midorikawa!” he called up the stairs, shouldering the door open hard and taking off at a dead run through the throng of C-rank agents to leave the room. Then he lifted a hand, adjusting the position of the earpiece that would let him communicate with HQ. Right now that radio was silent, likely waiting on the A-Ranks to set off.

“Hm, seems we’ve been called up,” he mused. Immediately Osamu’s voice crackled back into the back of his consciousness through the internal comms, long since used to Yuuma’s mild commentary about battle situations.

_“It looks like Trion soldiers we’ve dealt with before. Vanders and Marmods – with three Rabits.”_

That caught Yuuma’s attention, and Replica’s as well, from where the autonomous Trion soldier was stashed under the collar of his jacket. Rabits were Trion-intensive soldiers to produce, and their use had supposedly been limited to Afrokrator for the past few years. But Hyuse wouldn’t risk breaking the trust between his nation and Border without very good reason, and Yuuma doubted he had such a reason at the moment. In addition, there were better courses of action for Hyuse to take than simply attacking Earth out of nowhere. But if it wasn’t Hyuse, that meant…

“Someone besides Afrokrator either has Rabits and the excess Trion to waste in sending them here, or this is a targeted attack, somehow.”

He kept his voice low despite the fact that he was running at full speed, mindful of the B-rank and C-rank agents parting like a sea of water around him as he sprinted down the hallways toward the doors at the base of HQ. Osamu’s voice over the radio was grim.

_“You think so too, then.”_

“ _I couldn’t imagine it being Hyuse,”_ Chika interjected then, her voice soft with worry. _“We’d know something in Afrokrator was wrong before something like this happened, especially with Yuuma’s Side Effect.”_

“I also doubt it’s Hyuse. My Side Effect is pretty sensitive, even at picking up half-truths and the like. There’s been nothing from him – unless you count him lying directly to Chika’s face about liking plain white rice.”

_“Kuga, really?”_

_“Hyuse doesn’t like white rice?”_

“Well, he drowns it in soy sauce for no reason first- Ooh, I see you.”

Yuuma could see his teammates sprinting up the hallway opposite him, Chika’s Bagworm already equipped and fluttering around her shoulders, Raygust inactive but already in Osamu’s hand. The door was closed, two members of Arashiyama Squad and all but one of Miwa Squad already waiting by it. They’d be first to leave, then. Good, that meant they’d have more time to play with the Trion soldiers outside, and hopefully figure out where they came from in the process.

Osamu slid to a halt at the door, and Chika came to a quick stop beside him, materializing her Lightning in her hands. Smart choice. Ibis would be too heavy to move with right now, and speed was the most important element for the quick response force at the moment. Yuuma met them with a grin, bumping his fist against Chika’s and Osamu’s in quick succession. Osamu smiled back at him, green eyes flickering warmly behind thin metal rims and glass. His hair was messy again, Yuuma noticed absently. He must have been running his fingers through it. Osamu tended to do that a lot when he was stressed out or lost in thought, though Yuuma was positive the taller boy hadn’t realized it yet.

“Alright partner, lead on.”

Osamu nodded, glancing back at the two incomplete squads behind him. Oh, there he went, worrying about other people again, like it was a preprogrammed command or something. Warmth bloomed in Yuuma’s chest and he couldn’t stop the grin on his face from softening with the fondness he’d been having so much difficulty hiding as of late. Osamu was just too honest.

“We’ll travel the furthest south to take care of the faraway ones before they can wander off,” Osamu said, and both Yoneya and Tokieda gave him gestures of acknowledgement. Yuuma saluted too, and Chika giggled at the playful move.

Then they were off, throwing the doors wide and sprinting out into the Forbidden Zone towards the hulking figures of the Vanders, faint dust kicking up around their boots. Sector 2 wasn’t too far away – they’d be there pretty soon at their current pace.

_“Tamakoma-2 is now en route towards the targets. We’ll be heading to the Neighbors that are furthest south.”_

Osamu’s voice came over the headset, reporting their current status to HQ, and a few moments later a stream of digital information thrummed in the back of his skull as Shiori uploaded the radar scans to their team’s shared knowledge base. The Trion soldiers had all come through the gate within a fairly small radius of each other and didn’t appear to spreading out too much. Well, that was interesting, if somewhat more difficult – clustered Trion soldiers tended to give each other backup on accident.

“Hmm, that looks inconvenient,” Yuuma sighed, skipping over a piece of road shattered by Afrokrator’s invasion three years ago with a quick Grasshopper. Chika made a soft noise of agreement over the internal radio. “Well, what’s the plan, Captain?”

“ _Five hundred meters before we reach the two Rabits at the southernmost point of this incursion, Chika, peel off and find a good shooting lane. The houses in Sector 2 aren’t very large, so pick one that can prioritize ease of movement over fields of fire. Yuuma- Well, we’ll move in to take down one of the Rabits. I’ll draw its attention. Chika, keep the Vanders and the other Rabit in the area off our backs while we’re doing so.”_

It was a decent plan – not much strategy involved, but then again, they were only fighting the mechanical Neighbor droids. They weren’t exactly programmed to be capable of complex thought or anything similar.

“Roger,” Yuuma chirped, tailing Osamu and Chika down a side street, the dull ping of the radar echoing in his head. They were getting fairly close to their chosen targets, leaping over broken rubble from past Neighbor activity, the low houses around them cracked and broken, seven years of standing empty enough to do serious damage to the exteriors. And then suddenly, Chika stopped, half turning in the middle of the street, violet eyes widening in shock. Both Osamu and Yuuma tensed, knowing what the look on her face meant.

_“Yuuma, behind you!”_

He did an about face without question, Shield glowing green in one hand, Scorpion in the other, and only just got his Shield up in time to block the massive fist of Trion metal hurtling towards him. The force was incredible, and the asphalt grated harshly against his back and face as the blow sent him flying, tumbling haphazardly along the street, Shield shattering like glass on impact. He skidded along the street for a few breathless moments, then rolled to his feet, absorbing the momentum. Osamu yelled after him, the high-pitched _skree_ of Chika’s Lightning filling the air as she shot covering fire.

_“Kuga!”_

“I’m okay, Osamu, just a tumble.”

He looked up to see a Rabit standing in the middle of the street, armored arms up to protect itself from Chika’s ferocious barrage of lightning-quick sniper fire and Osamu’s Asteroid. But something was off. Sudden cold slid down his spine, like an ice cube slipping down the back of his shirt. Replica suddenly shifted under his collar, the small Trion soldier flying out from his hiding place. Yuuma already knew, just from one look, but as Replica spoke his suspicions were confirmed.

_“This is not a Rabit of Afrokrator._ ”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm posting this now because A) new pseud to match my tumblr URL (y'all should follow me, I draw and stuff!) and B) I was hit with a MASSIVE plotbunny for this fic that's lowkey going to make the next few chapters way harder to write. So the next update might not come for a *while*
> 
> Enjoy~

_“This is not a Rabit of Afrokrator. And I cannot identify a planet of origin._ ” Replica said, sounding very serious, and Yuuma shook his head slowly, twin Scorpion blades flashing into his hands. The Rabits from Afrokrator had been bulky and dense like this one, but they certainly hadn’t had tails, nor intricate spines down the center of their backs like some kind of strange lizard. This was either a new model, which he doubted, or the technology from Afrokrator had been leaked somehow and adapted by someone else. Either way, it was bad news – for one very big reason.

“Osamu, Chika, watch out – it’s different from the other Rabits,” he warned, tensing up as the Trion Soldier started to move towards his two teammates. “It knows how to use Stealth, and it has different limbs. This one wasn’t on our radar.”

Chika gasped in realization, her cloaked signature shifting to the side of a building. She was getting in position to shoot for real. He’d better move if he wanted to stay intact.

_“You’re right,”_ she murmured, her voice echoing through the internal comms of his Trion body. _“Yuuma, do you recognize it?”_

And that was the kicker, wasn’t it? That despite all the planets his father had taken him to, despite all the data stored in Replica’s computerized memory, he had no idea whose Rabit this was.

“No. Neither does Replica. Whatever it is, it’s new.”

The Rabit leapt again, an extra spring in its tail appearing to launch it far farther than an ordinary jump would, heading directly for Osamu. Their captain jumped as well, drawing those massive metal fists up in an attempt to grasp him, and then hissed, Raygust glowing yellow in its blade form.

“Thruster, on!”

Immediately, Raygust glowed brighter, buzzing ferociously, and Osamu was rocketed forward past those dangerous hands to slash at the Rabit’s hard armor. It was mostly ineffective, only putting a moderate slice on the Rabit’s face and cutting off one of the Stealth-sensing antennae at the back of his head. But it did the job well, moving him directly out Chika’s line of fire. Yuuma grinned and dropped Scorpion to cover his ears. She had Ibis equipped now.

The explosion was deafening, and when the smoke cleared, the Rabit’s head had been cleanly blown away, vaporized or torn off by Chika’s shot. The Trion body fell to the ground with a resounding clatter, Trion particles floating up into the sky in a faintly luminescent trail of smoke. Osamu prodded it carefully with Raygust, gritting his teeth when nothing happened, and Yuuma trotted over to him, hopping lightly over chunks of fallen building littering the asphalt. Chika really did have a penchant for leveling city blocks.

“HQ, this is Mikumo of Tamakoma-2, reporting in. We’ve destroyed one Rabit, but it’s a different model than the ones from Afrokrator – Kuga and Replica don’t recognize it. It can also use Stealth techniques to avoid radar detection, so there’s no telling how many hidden Rabits there may be.”

The buzz of frantic voices from HQ suddenly crackled like static through the back of Yuuma’s head and he winced at the explosion of noise, exchanging a rueful look with Chika, who was massaging a temple. Ow. Director Kinuta really did have a set of lungs on him. But he could understand their urgency. Stealth Rabits would be a nightmare for agents to deal with – it would entirely change how patrols had to be run, if not the majority of Border’s operational structure. Nobody except the few S-ranks and Jin would be allowed to fight solo.

Osamu waved a hand to catch his and Chika’s attention, then gestured at a nearby Vander bearing down on them. Right. The focus was on taking out the Neighbors. Yuuma pulled his collar open a little as Replica slid back inside his jacket, materializing the buzzing blue sphere of Grasshopper in his free hand. Then he threw it and jumped, Scorpion flashing yellow into his hands as Grasshopper launched him diagonally across the Vander’s line of sight. Chika and Osamu hung back, watching as he leapt from Grasshopper platforms in arrhythmic zigzags across the sky, a quick Mantis slash cutting cleanly through the Vander’s Trion-processing center.

_“Kuga, head to the Rabit 800m away – Chika, find a spot to set up. Tell us if your Side Effect goes off again. If you encounter a Stealth Rabit, let us know immediately. Kuga, I’ll be heading south as well, down the next street over.”_

_“I’ll set up on the roof of the little office building to the 4 o’clock.”_

Yuuma nodded at his teammates once each before spinning on his heel and taking off towards the Rabit that Osamu had directed him to, tossing out a few Grasshoppers so he could leap up to run on the roofs of the abandoned houses lining the streets around them.

“Hm, I’ll beat you there, Osamu~.”

_“Of course you will, you’re cheating with Grasshopper and you’re faster than me.”_

Oh, he could _hear_ the smile in that comment, but through his peripheral vision Yuuma could tell that Osamu was sprinting as well, trying his best to keep pace. The warm spot in his chest shifted, flopping sideways like a dead fish, a slow thrum of giddy dizziness taking hold of him. Osamu was always trying to catch him, wasn’t he? Though it _was_ usually because he’d sneak food off everyone’s plates and Osamu felt honor-bound to correct his bad behavior.

“Hey, I’m not cheating, I’m just using a Trigger you chose not to use.”

_“The last time you tried to teach me how to use Grasshopper, I bailed out because I slammed face-first into a wall hard enough to break my Trion face.”_

“Hm, hm, how unfortunate. Are you sure that wasn’t Midorikawa trying to teach you?”

_“I can hear the duckface you’re making, Kuga.”_

_“Mhmm, and Yuuma, you showed Konami-senpai the video recording you took. Poor Osamu didn’t hear the end of it for two months.”_

Oops, they were ganging up on him, now, Chika’s soft reproach muffling the harsh thudding of his boots on decrepit rooftops. He grinned into the wind, bounding high into the air over an intersection. The Rabit was below now, a lumbering thing that locked onto him as he streaked overhead in bright blue, Scorpion burning yellow in his hands. Osamu was further back on the street, just now coming into range for his Asteroid to hit.

“I’ve got eyes on the target. Want me to toss you a Grasshopper to redeem yourself, Osamu?”

_“…I’ll cover you with Asteroid.”_

Yuuma laughed at the dry response and dove in smiling.

* * *

The radar had gone silent well over an hour ago, but HQ had asked all three of the squads that deployed to remain in the area, wary of the Stealth Rabits that Tamakoma-2 had run into earlier that day. Miwa Squad had ended up encountering two on their own after they’d made it to the target location, and Arashiyama Squad had encountered a whopping total of four, but aside from the seven defeated Rabits, the three A-rank squads hadn’t been able to detect even a trace of a hidden Neighbor solider. It seemed that they had stopped the influx. But there was no way to tell, exactly, and it put everyone on edge.

Yuuma sat down on the edge of a rooftop, kicking his legs out over the city streets below carelessly. Osamu had asked him to split off from the rest of Tamakoma-2, to act as both bait and insurance for the other squads. Rabits were far more likely to attack lone Border agents, after all, and of all three Squads, Yuuma would be the only agent skilled enough to bring down a Rabit without outside assistance. Having a Black Trigger was pretty handy, on occasion. But there hadn’t been a single bite yet, not even the slightest glimpse of Trion-metal. It either meant that they’d gotten all the Rabits, or said robots were waiting for something to attack.

A sudden shiver of excitement rattled down Yuuma’s spine, and he bit his lip in thought, considering. Then he lifted two fingers to his earpiece and stood up, carefully avoiding the call button.

“HQ, This is Kuga of Tamakoma-2. Quadrant B, Sector-2 is clean,” he said casually, his other hand hanging loose at his side. He paused a moment, as if waiting for a reply from HQ, then hummed in false agreement and dropped his hand from the untouched earpiece. Perhaps this would-

The blow to the back of his head came out of nowhere, and a starburst of lights and flickering green Trion smoke spiraled around him, the hurried Shield he’d thrown up shattering again as he was sent flying off the edge of the building he’d been standing on. Brick crunched beneath his back a half second later, a wall crumbling as his body impacted it and sent a house collapsing down into a pile of rubble around him. He hadn’t even seen the world spin before he’d hit ground. He really had been bait.

The bruises wouldn’t do much to hinder him. But the large chunk of concrete ceiling pinning one of his Trion legs to the ground might potentially be an issue. Yuuma gritted his teeth and dug his fingers beneath the lip of the fallen stone, the crunching of the Rabit’s legs on crumbling asphalt a mere block away and closing fast. But no matter how much he strained, he was stuck, trapped under a slab of concrete at least fifteen centimeters thick.

“Osamu, I’ve got one,” he hissed, drawing Scorpion and cutting through the concrete trapping him to pull his leg free. But now the Rabit loomed over him again, tail whipping millimeters from his face as he catapulted himself backwards, further into the ruined house. “It waited for me to fake a report to HQ before attacking.”

_“Understood. Can you take it down?”_

“Should be able to, no problems,” Yuuma mused, whipping out a reverse strike with Mantis, the double-long Scorpion blade slashing through the center eye of the Rabit lunging for him with lazy precision. This one hadn’t been too difficult. “Okay, I’m done- huh?”

The echoing ring of what sounded like a cannon blast suddenly filled his ears, and for a brief moment he felt lightheaded, like he was floating on the surface of a shallow, warm pool. Replica, nuzzled into his collarbone, popped out immediately, flat eyes analyzing everything within a short radius. Yuuma looked down, still feeling floaty and strange. A massive hole through his midsection was rapidly leaking Trion, faint cracks ripping quickly through his Trion body, and the ground beneath him was scorched, the rock behind him cratered in a perfect circle.

The tail. It had a minature missile type weapon embedded, like a lizard that could drop its tail to escape predators. And he’d fallen for the trick headfirst, leaving his team behind. His Trion soldier companion buzzed with anxious worry, scanning his body. He’d been taken out, not captured, so- he wasn’t being targeted. And that meant-

“Replica, go support Osamu and Chika-!”

_“Trion body limit exceeded. Agent Kuga, bail out.”_

_“Kuga! Dammit – Chika, do you see-”_

A sudden rush of deafening sensation hurtled past him, sending him falling down a long, bright tunnel, wind tearing at his clothes and hair as he was funneled into a tiny space, chest constricted tightly. And then the room materialized, bright white lights lancing through his skull, the mattress buckling as he tumbled onto it with a loud grunt. For a second, he lay as still as he could, breathing heavily, limbs trembling. And then he sat up to see Shiori staring at him with concern etched onto her face. The room tipped sideways as he hung there, breathless, watching things turn in odd directions in front of him. Ah. He was dizzy. This was…unpleasant. Maybe standing up wouldn’t be such a good idea right now.

“Welcome back, Yuuma.” Shiori began, “I’ve already sent in a message to HQ and they’re dispatching two more A-rank Squads – Kusakabe and Tachikawa. Miwa Squad has been given an order to back up Tamakoma-2. That was clever of you, faking the report to HQ to draw out the Rabit.”

Yuuma nodded grimly, already starting to piece together the implications in his mind. He flopped back down to the mattress, trying to pass off the movement as one of exasperation rather than vertigo. Shiori didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s a common tactic for capturing Trigger users in the Neighborhood. You have the most time to subdue and drag someone off directly after they’ve reassured their superiors of their continued existence,” he explained thoughtfully. “The aim here looks to be capturing individual Trigger users in secret, otherwise the Vanders and radar-visible Rabits wouldn’t have been dropped into the Forbidden Zone. But I don’t know what benefit the secret abductions would have.”

Shiori nodded in agreement, clicking away on her keyboard.

“That’s what HQ seems to think as well.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything else to him, too busy inputting the necessary information to Osamu and Chika’s Trion databases, but the silence didn’t last long. After a moment, she raised her head and smiled at him, her headset hiding the corners of her mouth. Yuuma puffed his cheeks out at her, eliciting a laugh.

“Ah, Satori and Kitora bailed out too, it seems, but it looks like these are the only two Rabits left,” she said cheerfully. “Come over here and look, Chika’s already ripped both of the arms off this thing.”

_Shit._ Could he refuse without giving anything away? Without his Border Trigger, his weakness would be painfully visible.

“Okay.”

Hands trembling, Yuuma pushed himself into a sitting position, willing the room around him to stay clear even as his peripheral vision turned grey and opaque, long tunnels spiraling off into the distance. Shiori seemed so far away. He paused for a moment, vaguely wondering if the sudden dizzying faintness that was turning his body to jelly was connected to the amount of Trion he’d just lost while fighting. Then he swung his legs off the edge of the landing mattress and carefully stood up, ignoring the soft heartbeat pounding painfully in his ears. Shiori glanced up at him then, wondering why it was taking him so long to get up. And she froze.

“Yuuma! You’re white as a _sheet!_ ”

Her voice was getting faint, muffled behind layers of cotton and Yuuma shook his head slowly, trying to clear everything out. But it didn’t work. The fuzziness got worse. Shiori threw her chair backwards, shouting soundlessly.

He didn’t feel it when he hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:3c   
> I live off comments, by the way. I love people talking to me (even if it's just small things!).   
> And if yelling in the comments isn't enough for you, my tumblr is @davidoodles, and my twitter is @avtorsola (and I use this latter handle on almost every platform) Feel free to shoot me DMs or asks!


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